


Blue Carnation

by Tsukai



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Alchemy, Angels, Demons, M/M, Minor Violence, Romance, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-29
Updated: 2012-07-30
Packaged: 2017-11-08 19:56:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/446913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsukai/pseuds/Tsukai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The line separating delusions and truth is deceptively faint. It's hard to tell if he's crossed it when Ryoma's life turns out to be a lie, and trusting Fuji may be the only way to find out. Rating may rise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Distorted

Chapter One - Distorted

Blue Carnation

A smiling male strolled through an elaborate garden, glancing around at the flowers surrounding him. From his back sprouted three pairs of wings, gliding as he floated between steps. He looked as if deep in thought as he scanned the rows of flowers quickly.

He paused to sprinkle water upon clusters occasionally with a casual wave of his hand. Stopping in front of a bush full of beautiful cerulean flowers, he crouched down to caress the petals of one glinting with dew. His lips twisted into a dark smile as he petted the soft leaves lightly.

"Blue carnations are so ironic, aren't they, Ryo-chan?" he seemed like he was asking the wind. "Entertain me. I didn't give you this chance for nothing, after all."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ryoma hissed lightly as the cotton swab was pressed against a scrape on his elbow. The dizzying scent of sweet alcohol and musky herbs infused the air strongly, making him lightheaded, all the while stinging the infected scrape.

"What do you put in these healing solutions?" he grumbled, voice subtly strained.

Inui, who was tending to his wounds, paid no heed to his complaints. Next to him, a plain looking girl of black hair and brown eyes glared at him, fiddling with a flap of brown fabric embroidered with her name, Natsuyama Yurika, in bold white thread. Seeing that her annoyance went unnoticed by the green-haired boy, she spoke to convey her irritation.

"It's your fault for getting hurt in the first place. How did you even get these wounds?" Ryoma merely tossed a wry look in her direction.

"Wouldn't you like to know." He tapped his heel quickly against the wooden floor, vibrating restlessly.

He didn't spare a second when Inui finished bandaging his arm, sliding off the chair and past the girl to the sturdy framework of the door. Ignoring protests from the brown-eyed female, Yurika, he strode briskly until he was out of sight. A near dash outside brought him to his route's beginning, crashing into the underbrush and crawling past a hedge of tangled weeds.

Ryoma winced as a thorn left a gash up his leg. "How am I supposed to explain that?" he mumbled to himself, exasperated.

Finally, he burst past the natural barrier to reach a small fortress of crumbled stone, rotting branches, and other wreckage piled up to form makeshift walls.

Slipping between two deteriorating pillars, he entered a clearing that was bare but for complicated alchemic circles scratched deep into the earth and crates filled with various supplies. This was his clandestine workshop, for he was of a coven of alchemists, and one of whom wished privacy when it came to his experiments.

Being an alchemist wasn't all that exciting. Amongst the five kingdoms, petty arguments between demons and other demons, or with increasing rarity, demons and humans, surfaced quite regularly. The demons were a proud race, and animosity was increased by their numbers - exactly six hundred sixty-six - and the glaringly clear distinction between the five species.

It didn't help that each species occupied and ruled one of these kingdoms, or rather, their five kings did. They presided over humanity; the peasants who manned their farms, mines, and other production facilities.

Alchemists, however, were humans that dabbled in magic - and thus was the link between the two races.

Ryoma sighed, staring down at his work. Concentrating on the object before him, he held out a hand aglow with light. His mind had kept on straying to a strange memory-like vision that had been affecting him, efficiently distracting him from reality, but nonetheless, he had to finish this project soon.

A light rustling noise was picked up by his sensitive hearing, alerting him of a second presence in his clearing. Whirling around, Ryoma noticed a form leaning against a small heap of stone and rubble bubbling out of the dry earth.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"Ah, don't mind me," an amused, almost feminine voice spoke. "Continue. I'll just sit here and watch." At this, silence fell, Ryoma glaring from his spot in defiant refusal. He narrowed his eyes stubbornly at the intruder, with no intention to resume his task, before realizing the futility in his action.

Slowly and reluctantly, he returned to his work – what else could he do? Ryoma couldn't very well force the stranger to leave… He shifted uncomfortably, feeling uneasy at the way the other boy seemed to drill holes in his back despite closed eyes.

"Can you stop staring at me?" he lashed out abruptly. His patience had all but snapped. "My eyes were never open," the stranger pointed out to him, smile wide. Ryoma snorted.

"One doesn't need eyes to see."

The brunet seemed pleasantly surprised, and equally entertained.

A contemplative silence settled amid them, with Ryoma attempting rather vainly to redirect his attentions. "Ne," the smiling visitor questioned brightly. "Can I bite you?"

Ryoma jerked his head over to glance at the other male incredulously. "Excuse me?" "I said-" "I heard what you said!"

"So, can I? You smell wonderful, and I didn't want to attack you without consent…" Ryoma felt startled. 'A vampire.' This was a vampire, and he was quite certain that it was a dangerous one. A strange feeling bubbled in the pit of his stomach at this fact as he regarded the figure before him. It couldn't hurt, right?

As if sensing the rather hesitant agreement brought about by this strangely instinctive familiarity, the vampire slid off his comfortable perch on the stones and approached him. Before he could stop himself, he had inherently tilted his head to expose his throat in response.

'What is wrong with me?' he wondered, soon cut off by his own sharp intake at the slight pain in his neck.

All his thoughts melted when fangs sunk into his neck as his eyesight distorted with white. Dizzying, intoxicating pleasure raced through his nerves, leaving behind the tingling feeling of lust. His skin seemed to awaken and react to every slight touch, making him feel so alive.

He made a small noise similar to a moan, the strands of suspicions unable to register doubtful thoughts in his mind. Throwing back his head, he bared his neck even more. Eyes darkened, gasping for breath, he suddenly found himself being kissed forcefully as soon as fangs had been withdrawn.

The brunet's lips tasted faintly of something tangy and metallic. 'Blood.' The fleeting thought crossed his mind. Surprising himself, he responded, wanting to taste the other person even more.

"Nnn…" When he broke away, he felt faint, growing more attentive by the second.

Suddenly, he widened his eyes in alarm and he turned his gaze on the person before him with a mix of accusation, fear, and uncertainty. Startled and insecure, a weak apology tumbled past his lips as he turned and fled, unsure of why he'd apologized and unaware of a cry behind him.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Slim fingers danced across a set of ivory keys, filling the air with fervent music. The intense yet hesitant melody dripped with contained emotions spilling from him; the range of notes covered was immense, the highs and lows spelling out an unsteady mix of feelings.

Deep, dark mistrust, high bright notes of ecstasy and passion highlighting brief peaks, and quick, irregular timing for bewilderment weaved a complicated piece. Inconsistencies, however, were not uncommon for the lack of tuning and his own distraction. A falter, a wrong note, a strange off-pitched key. The antique was not meant to be used anyways, he decided.

Ryoma stopped mid-bar and pulled himself up to shut the case. Drawing his cloak tightly about him and tugging the hood over his head, he slinked off, eyes shadowed with fatigue and dubiety.

Strides smooth, he made his way to the main section, hidden in the shadows.

A thrumming sensation streamed up his arm, meaning that someone was summoning him. With a sigh, he relaxed his shields to make it easier for the caller. The unpleasant feeling of being called still, unfortunately, brought nausea with it. He'd never get used to it.

He popped into the private quarters of the original brown-eyed girl, arching an eyebrow in question at said girl immediately. "Echizen. Please tell me why the hell I was contacted by one of the most important members of the demon monarchy!" Yurika scowled.

He sighed. "If that's all, I'll be going now."

"Wait!"

Ryoma was already gone.

While travelling quickly away from any possible company, Ryoma stopped short in shock. The brown-haired male stood in front of him, expression troubled.

"Syuusuke," he called out, before he stopped himself. How did he know the stranger's name? And why his first name, of all things? "Fuji-san," he corrected himself, unsettled about how he knew his last name as well.

"Ryoma." The cat-like boy in question stepped back, discomfiture evident. "What are you doing here?" Ryoma winced a little. That had come out harsher than he'd intended. Fuji simply gave a half-hearted smile.

"Apologizing, I suppose." He sat down on a small ledge of marble, gesturing at Ryoma to join him.

Ryoma sat next to him, legs swinging casually but expression tense. "What did you do to me?" Fuji shrugged. "I've no clue. Same thing you did to me, I guess."

Ryoma seemed a little taken aback. Had Fuji felt the same recognition, the same need? "Why else are you here?"

Fuji chuckled. "You sure catch on fast, don't you? I'm here to ask you to come with me." "With you?" Ryoma put two and two together, realization dawning upon him. "You're the person who contacted Natsuyama?"

"The very same."

The green–haired boy shot up unexpectedly, suddenly infuriatiated. "You show up in my life, you nearly attack me, you completely destroy my life with that little scene, and now you ask me to go live with you? Who the hell do you think I am?"

He started to shake. "For days I've been haunted with dreams, with nightmares that I can't make sense of or understand, and then you come along. You just being there did something, and do you know what it means? My life is a lie! Why should I trust you now, all of a sudden?"

Fuji stayed silent for a little while, waiting for Ryoma to recover from his outburst, before speaking up quietly. "You don't think that's been happening to me either? I'm doing this so we can both find out what's happened to us." Ryoma sunk back down, expression unreadable.

When no response came after a few minutes, Fuji stood up. "Sorry for bothering you. I'll be going now."

With a polite little smile, he turned to leave. When he had gone but a few steps, Ryoma's voice rang out from behind him. "Wait!" Fuji looked back.

Ryoma's words were whispered, but Fuji caught them. "I'll go." Facing away once again to walk away, the brunet smiled.

"Come on, then."


	2. There and Back Again

Chapter Two – There and Back Again

Blue Carnation

Ryoma closed his eyes, reveling in sheer delight at the bubbling creek. He loved the way the water ran smoothly over his skin, slicking fabric and billowing his cloak out behind him. The soft sounds of flowing liquid were calming to his ears.

He floated a few inches above the muddy bottom of the creek, chest-deep in water. Strands of pale gold light streamed downwards from his fingertips to anchor among the polished black stones below his toes.

Ryoma sighed in happiness and relief at the sensation, ribbons of glowing yellow enrobing him loosely. "Mm..."

Soon he withdrew the golden threads, swimming to shore. Ryoma shook out small droplets of water, plopping himself on the mossy bank with a grunt. Turning to stare out to the other side of the river blankly, he glared at nothing, running a hand through wet green hair. "Damn you, Syuu- Fuji."

Quiet footsteps were heard behind him, a person padding lightly through the grass. Ryoma's damp cloak was pulled off, replaced by a warm, dry towel and a pair of arms. Ryoma didn't even need to look behind him to know who it was.

"Fuji."

"Ryoma, you're going to catch a cold," Fuji reprimanded lightly, expression serene as always.

Ryoma huffed. "Syuusuke, I don't need you to tell me that." He reverted back to addressing Fuji by first name when he'd heard Fuji call him Ryoma. It meant something was going on.

The brunet didn't waste any time telling the alchemist what had happened. "They want to know what's going on between us."

After letting out a breath of relief that it hadn't been as bad as he'd feared, he twisted his head to kiss the older boy lightly, looking into Fuji's hungry blue eyes as he pulled away.

"Then we'll show them, ne, Fuji-sama?" he asked Fuji in mock innocence, exposing his neck with a smirk.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He tugged half-heartedly at the knot tying the cloak around his neck. "Fuji~" he whined to the smiling male glancing over his shoulder, assessing Ryoma's form in the mirror.

"Can't I wear something else?"

He scowled at the traditional clothing he had been draped in. The fine robe of grey and scarlet fabrics flowed down his back, curled about his form, and wrapped a long strip of red down one arm, presenting a modified form of a classic demon cloak.

Ryoma hated it, because the cloak symbolised demon nobility – and he wasn't among them. He was looked down upon by their society; being an alchemist alone reaped a small amount of disrespect due to mortality and the like, but his true roots brought hatred and further contempt among the demons.

A deep frown made its way across his expression, furrowing his eyebrows in speculation and irritation.

"Maa, maa, Echizen. It's necessary for you to be introduced to the demon society, and we wouldn't want them to think badly of you, ne?" Fuji attempted to placate Ryoma.

"…I guess so." Ryoma pouted a little.

Entwining his slim fingers with Ryoma's, Fuji gently led the green haired boy out of the grand fitting room, throwing a strange look at the floor length mirror propped innocently among crumpled rolls of fabric. Mumbling something under his breath, he turned to smile contently at Ryoma, who he was swiftly tugging forwards.

"Hurry up!" They slipped gracefully through the corridors before stopping at a winding flight of stairs leading directly into the banquet hall.

"Be good, okay?" he murmured into Ryoma's ear, kissing his cheek lightly and sweeping down the steps majestically.

Ryoma waited a while before descending himself, as he knew he could not be introduced alongside the vampire king. He padded down the stairs, careful to remain unnoticed, accepting champagne from a server who stood near. Manoeuvring past conversing pairs, he politely greeted anyone standing alone.

Not even allowing the recipients of his acknowledgements to wonder how he knew their names, he wove neatly through the crowds, curling his fingers tightly around his flute of champagne. It was only when he bumped into an individual that he paused, apologizing with a tight smile.

A trickle of chilled champagne curved over the grooves of his hand from the slight spill caused by impact with the solid form. "Ah, my apologies…" he looked to see who it was, golden eyes widening.

"…Atobe-san." A shot of pain and a splotch of blurry vision accompanied his shock, his breathing growing uneven.

A careful, reserved conversation ensued, Ryoma searching desperately for a way to leave. He kept his expression neutral to hide the throbbing pain of buried memories.

"I must go."

He threw his sudden excuse hurriedly into the conversation, not caring if he was rude as he all but rushed out of the hall.

Throwing open the door to the first unoccupied room he saw, he slammed the door back with a backwards shift of his weight, slumping down against the wood. With a small noise, he downed his half his glass of champagne before setting it down dizzily.

"Damn…" he cursed, clutching his face in his hands. He threw back his head, eyes slightly crazed. "To hell with this!" In a fit frustration, he flung the glass at the wall, pressing himself tightly against the supporting door propping him up. There he sat, firmly fisting the fabric of his robe and gasping for breath.

"Why the hell do I put up with you, Fuji?"

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A head of green-black hair peeked out from beneath a faded black hood, the weary character shuffling along. Dragging his feet to deliberately streak a mixture of mud and dark blood across the impeccably clean floor, Ryoma limped into his empty room.

Grabbing the arrow lodged into his shin and yanking the metal shaft out with a wince, he touched the wound hesitantly.

Ryoma snatched a bottle of clear liquid off the nightstand, pouring a few drops onto the spot. He reached into the drawer to retrieve some pills, gulping them down dry and closing his eyes to sleep.

The brief but thankfully dreamless rest seemed to be over in minutes, but he was sure he'd been out a few hours. Glancing over at his leg, he was relieved to see it'd closed. He always healed at unnatural speeds, but such a deep wound would've taken a couple days at the very least to heal without the medication.

Shifting and stretching his leg experimentally, he loosened the tight muscles and slipped outside his room. To his amusement, the floor looked as if it had been very irately cleaned, something he hadn't known was possible.

He didn't know where he wanted to go to; now that the adrenaline of battle had left him, a flat void seemed to fill him to the brim. His feet started to move and began to unconsciously carry him to Fuji's room.

Ryoma found himself before the gilded door bearing the Fuji crest that was of the vampire's bedroom. After a small reluctant pause, he rapped his knuckles against the center of the elegant coat of arms.

The well-oiled door was opened soundlessly by Fuji.

"Ryoma, what are you doing here?"

Ryoma scowled darkly. "You have no right to call me by my first name!" Fuji seemed to catch himself, smile flickering. "Ah, my apologies, Echizen. Well, why are you here?"

Ryoma deflated a little, blinking at the brunet. "You... You went there again, didn't you? What do you think you're doing?" Fuji asked. His eyes opened a little, no longer smiling.

"Why did you go?"

"Why do you care?" Ryoma demanded. He tilted up his chin defiantly. "It's my business, not yours."

"Then why did you come to me?" Ryoma chose not to meet Fuji's eyes.

"It's a drug, ecstasy, thrill, whatever you want to call it. Otherwise, I'd become like one of them. Otherwise… The pain will come back…" Ryoma swayed a little, lurching forward and falling against Fuji's chest.

"Don't leave me again… Please…"

Fuji sighed, gathering the now unconscious boy into his arms and bringing him into the king's own chambers. Lowering Ryoma onto the bed and wrapping him in blankets, he padded out to a connecting living room.

Ripping off his own shirt, he concentrated, ragged, leathery extensions of his pale back unfolding outwards. Fuji moved them carefully, before letting out a tired breath and retracting them.

He wasn't about to tell Ryoma about this new feature any time soon, but he'd found a need for them, unfortunately.

Sliding his shirt back on, he returned to where Ryoma lay, lying down next to the younger male. Gently, he wrapped Ryoma in a secure embrace, coaxing himself to sleep.


	3. Fool's Banter

Chapter Three – Fool's Banter

Blue Carnation

He snuggled deeper under the covers, groaning at the sunlight glaring down upon him. The traces of Fuji's scent lingered on the blankets, and so he inhaled it, turning over and curling up in an attempt to feign sleep.

Ryoma stared at his own fingers as he flexed them. Absentmindedly wrapping them into a fist, he couldn't help but wonder why he always woke up alone.

"Syuusuke... Where are you?"

A dark flicker of fear, a result of a haunting nightmare, kept him awake. Rolling onto his back, he stared up at the arched ceiling.

Ryoma soon decided it was impossible to go back to sleep and sat up, flinging aside the sheets as he slipped off.

Padding barefoot down cold marble corridors, he ran his fingers lightly along the shallow wooden carvings of the walls. Ryoma reached the end of the hall at a pair of gilded glass doors, opening onto a small but magnificent balcony.

The chill wind bit at his fingers and tousled his hair. A content warmth spread within him when he turned around, finding Fuji and throwing himself into the brunet's arms.

"Fuji!" he exclaimed brightly. He nuzzled into the crook of the vampire's neck. Fuji laughed in response, kissing Ryoma on the nose.

"Someone's happy to see me," he teased.

The playful grin, however, only made Ryoma ache inside.

Oh, he'd do anything to see Fuji grace him with a real smile. It was the childish desire to delude himself into believing that if he could give Fuji the world, he'd be loved really and truly.

With a sigh, he detached himself and bid the older male farewell, sweeping away. Behind him, Fuji stood silently, giving him a strange, blank look. "Echizen... Ryoma..."

His open eyes flashed red.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ryoma frowned at his reflection. The boy with the wild green-black hair and haunted golden eyes birthed of a sleepless night was not he.

With a tired groan, he clutched a knot of untamed hair, wondering how he was to make himself presentable in such a short time.

He sat up a little straighter, remembering the purpose of his own tidying up and the cause of his sleepless night. Today, Ryoma was to meet the high council and relatives of Fuji, and good impressions were key.

Raking his hand sloppily through his messy hair, he grabbed a comb from a drawer of the vanity, dragging it harshly through his hair. Ryoma plucked the strands that had come out off the teeth of the comb and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

When he deemed himself decent, he made his way to the wardrobe, wrinkling his nose in distaste at what had been picked out for him. Removing his bedclothes and slipping on the shirt and pants, he loosened the cuffs and wrapped the navy cloak loosely over his attire.

Ryoma decided rather grumpily that he felt like such a girl for caring so much for his appearance.

He slid on his boots, sticking a knife in the sheath built into the inner sides of them. The people he was going to associate with him may not be the friendliest, after all.

Strolling out, his footsteps clicked ominously in the emptiness. He wanted to get some fresh air first. When he had reached the arched doorway, he paused, unsure if he wanted to go outside. Ryoma could see the flare of fire, could hear screams of terror.

With a sigh, he stepped out, peering around a small bend. A cluster of lesser demons stood, jeering, at a young boy that they were torturing by running a torch over his skin.

Suddenly, Ryoma felt sick to the stomach. He burst toward the group, glaring vehemently.

"If it isn't the vampire king's bitch," one male demon sneered. "Do you want to join this pathetic human?"

"Do you really want to leave him to the angels?" Ryoma snarled. "You bastards!"

He extended an arm, ribbons of pale gold wrapping around the burning stick. Jerking his arm back, the torch flew backwards, which he caught deftly.

"I thought you mortals worshipped heaven," another snapped, angry at being deprived of their means of entertainment. Ryoma snorted.

"I've already been there. They treat humans worse than you do."

"Worshipping themselves, saying they follow the decree of kami-sama by obeying what they say is kami's way. Those idiot angels were the ones who wrote 'god's rules'."

With a flick of his wrist, the cluster of demons burst into flames.

Approaching the small, rather terrified child, Ryoma crouched, watching the young boy expectantly. After some inner battle, the infant asked shyly, "Did nii-san get rid of the scary demons?"

Ryoma shook his head. "I only activated their elemental forms to transport them somewhere else."

"What's your name, nii-san?"

"Ryoma."

"Ryoma-nii, have you really been to heaven?" Again, Ryoma shook his head. "I've been there, but I don't really remember it, only when I dream it. So I guess you could say I haven't."

With a wide-eyed, fascinated look, the young boy grinned. "I'm Aki."

"I'm happy to have met you," Ryoma told him sincerely. He hugged the small human, cool butter-yellow magic enveloping the boy and silently healing any burns. "Now, though, you need to go back to your family. We don't want them to worry about you, ne?"

The boy nodded vigorously. "Hai, Ryoma-niisan! Bye!"

Ryoma waved to Aki until he was out of sight. Exhaling and shaking his head almost fondly, he stood up and smoothed down the wrinkles in his now slightly crumpled cloak. He tilted his head up to stare pensively at the clear blue sky.

Oh, if only the world was as pure and innocent as the children.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A dew-glittering pair of elegant white wings extended alongside arms spread out in greeting. In one hand, the black haired male clutched a pomegranate; in the other, a stoppered vial of ash. Grinning, he bit into the red fruit, calling out playfully.

"Telios, what brings you here to my humble abode?"

The angel addressed as Telios sighed, raising a bandaged hand to his face. "My goodness, Zelos, must you always greet guests like that?"

As the thusly named Zelos ushered in his visitor with a laugh, he swiftly snatched two glasses of light mead from a servant who waited on the side. He offered one to light brown-haired angel before him, who accepted it graciously.

Settling down into two plump armchairs, Telios leaned forward, pouring a good amount of syrup from a pitcher into a broad spoon and carefully dripping it into his drink. He stirred the pale liquid thoughtfully, staring down into its swirling depths.

"It's the anniversary, isn't it? Of his banishment, I mean."

Zelos smiled at the words. "You remembered, then? It's been so many millennia since that day."

"That vial you were holding contained the ashes," Telios commented mildly, "and the pomegranate was his favorite fruit. It wasn't so hard to guess."

The dark-haired man's grin flickered, corners turning into a frown. "That obvious? I don't even miss the damn bastard; it's his fault we're in this mess anyways." He clenched a shaking fist under the table.

Telios stirred a cube of powdered, colored crystal into his drink, emotionless eyes darkening. "Yes, yes it is." Tipping the glass up to allow the liquid a smooth slide down his throat, the brown-haired man licked his lips, expression deceptively calm.

"Why else would Morningstar turn against us? Him, of course, it's always him. And to think Morningstar was so loyal to His cause prior to this... unfortunate incident." Telios finally grimaced.

"Then Michael and Gabriel died soon after the war, wings tainted by the Darkness and poisoning them, killing their souls. The angels, us, we lost humanity's faith in Him without the archangels and with the demons closer to earth than we were. Now our supply of servants is only the few who still believe."

"Maa, maa," Zelos reassured to calm the worsening mood of the brunet angel. "In due time, we will have earth all to ourselves." With a smirk, he took a drag from his glass and raised it.

"To our victory, ne?"

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three pairs of wings stretched, expelling feathers all around. Reaching out a slim hand, pale fingers curled around a carefully carved glass figure and moved it forward one space.

He extended a hand over to the other side, manoeuvring an ebony piece to just a step away from destroying the original glass piece. He sat alone at a round mahogany table, playing a game of chess with only himself.

Reaching up to brush aside a strand of hair, he smiled sadistically, propping his chin on a fist and tracing the rim of the table with a finger.

"The curtain rises on a new scene…"


	4. It Could Have Turned Out Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains explicit content.

Chapter Four – It Could Have Turned Out Better  
Blue Carnation

Wordlessly he closed the door behind him, the soft click resounding. Every step he took thrummed with electric-like waves of excitement, the shaking of his form and euphoric smile indicating a high sense of restlessness and energy. It was almost tradition now, Ryoma mused absently, to come to Fuji’s room after going there.

The rapidly fading marks on his arms became mere scratches; the shallow wounds closing to form pale jagged scars. As he walked, the only trace of his injuries became the dried blood caked lightly upon his arms.

He smiled so brightly then, a distracted bliss that had never before graced his lips. “Fuji!” The call ripped from his throat, cracked and hoarse, wildly pitched and tone feverish. 

From the depths of the chambers emerged a smiling brunet. In his haze Ryoma couldn’t see the dark twist of Fuji’s lips, the shadowed blue lidded by lowered eyelids. “Echizen, what’s gotten you so worked up?”

The voice was sly, but Ryoma, just barely comprehending the words with his mind so overwhelmed, didn’t notice. “Fuji,” he whined, “I have so much damn energy and it’s not going away…”

Ryoma wobbled a bit as he walked towards the smirking vampire. “Why don’t I help you?” 

The golden-eyed boy watched him curiously as he said the words. “I don’t see how you could, but go ahead.”

"Take off your shirt," Fuji commanded. It took a while before Ryoma realized what had been asked of him. "What-" The brunet's eyes snapped open dangerously, causing the cat eyed boy to flinch.

Ryoma complied slowly, slipping out of the article of clothing. When he had completely stripped it off, Fuji promptly attached his fangs onto his neck, pushing him back to tumble onto the bed.

As swiftly as he had sunk bitten, he recoiled, watching with some sense of satisfaction as blood trickled from the wound. Trails of red contrasted boldly with Ryoma's skin, the indulging sensation of being bitten settling in.

From the base of his neck, where the punctured skin from the bite had been placed, the brunet started to lick downwards to lap up the blood. In slick, light strokes, the tongue seemed to light a fire in the pit of Ryoma's stomach.

With a sudden fit of clarity, Ryoma knew exactly what was going to happen and found, to his own surprise, that he himself had no intention to stop.

The green-haired boy panted lightly, scrabbling at Fuji's clothes. Want rushed through his body, a warm tingling sensation that pestered him urgently. "Off," he could distantly hear himself gasp. Pulling back, the brunet tore off his own clothes, pressing back onto Ryoma to rid the younger male of the rest of his garments.

Fuji swooped down, planting light, bloody kisses along Ryoma's chest and unapologetically swirling his tongue to clean up the red substance. Fingers slithering down his sides, the vampire smiled mischievously, hands reaching to stroke Ryoma's cock.

The younger male moaned, leaning into the touches. He could feel himself growing hard, whining at the back of his throat as to demand that the brunet hurry up.

Fuji wasted no time, nudging Ryoma over to push the green-haired male onto his stomach. Shoving long, slim fingers into Ryoma's mouth, he commanded, "Suck," running his fangs lightly along the shorter boy's spine enough to draw a line of crimson.

Obediently he caressed Fuji's elegant fingers with his tongue, satisfied to hear a slight moan from the brunet. Ryoma shivered at tip of the vampire's own tongue running up his back over the faint scar, waiting as the creamy digits were removed from his mouth.

Suddenly the older male pressed his erection against the golden-eyed boy's ass, eliciting a gasp from the boy squirming beneath him. After grinding slightly, he slid back a little to admire the aroused Ryoma and slid a saliva slicked finger into his tight hole.

The younger boy inhaled sharply, biting back a small yelp as two more joined them. He groaned, throwing back his head, as the digits stroked his prostrate and created sensations of blinding white pleasure. 

"Ah!"

Fuji smiled gently, slivers of lustful cerulean showing in his satisfaction. Thrusting his fingers in and out to lubricate Ryoma's hole, he stretched them outwards. He loomed over the green haired teen, commanding the gasping Ryoma, "Beg for it."

"P-Please, Fuji-" Ryoma's cheeks were dusted with a light pink. "I- Fuck me already, goddammit!"

Smirking, the vampire slid his cock slowly into Ryoma's puckered hole. "Fuck!" The golden eyed male screamed.

Steadily picking up his pace, Fuji began to thrust into Ryoma, moaning at the younger boy's tight virginity. Said boy clutched desperately at the sheets, mewling in ecstasy. "Oh, god..."

He was seeing white.

Tears leaked from his golden eyes in the pure blinding pleasure, the warmth that streamed down to his curling toes. He felt so contently full, and - god, Fuji - he wanted more. 

"H-harder!"

Adrenaline raced through his blood, lust clouding his mind. Screams of passion and sexual intent pierced the air, twining with husky moans and the sharp, repetitive sounds Fuji thrusting into him.

It felt so good, and however selfish it might be, he never wanted to return to the stale feelings of their pretend relationship. Ryoma pushed back into the brunet, who was now pressing insistently against him. The shorter boy was close to the edge.

"Fuji, I-"

"Hush," Fuji soothed between pants for oxygen. He drove into Ryoma, intensity peaking as he bit into the shoulder of the boy below him to stop himself from making any noise.

Orgasming, the vampire spilled his seed into the boy as seconds later, Ryoma came with a sharp arch of his spine and a scream at the dizzying rush of pleasure. Exhausted, they lay out of breath and sated, Fuji pulling out of the no longer innocent male and rolling off.

The sheets were tangled and sticky with sweat and come, room musky with the heavy scent of sex. Ryoma remained on his stomach, legs dangling up in the air and seed dripping down smooth thighs.

In the exhaustion fogging his vision, the world blacked out, allowing him to collapse into the first dreamless sleep in a long time.  
_______________________________________________________________

When he woke up, once again finding himself completely alone, he felt no surprise, only disappointment. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be in such a situation upon waking, but he’d half expected Fuji to stay at least after sex.

Ryoma was in no position to complain, though, as he’d no right to expect such things from the brunet. With a sigh he pushed himself off the bed, dressing in the crumpled clothes on the floor.

He smoothed out the wrinkles as best as he could before pausing, making a determined decision and going out the door.

He grimaced at the uncomfortable, sticky feel of dried come on his thighs, but dismissed the thought. He’d wash it off later. Ignoring the looks he was given by those he came across, he made his way into an obscure side corridor.

At the end of the cramped hallway was a narrow, damp staircase plunging into darkness. Taking a deep breath, he entered, trying not to wrinkle his nose at the scent of wet wood and mould.

Bending down to a candle he had nearly tripped over, he struck a match with slightly weakened hands and lit it. He watched in mild fascination as it created a chain of fire, lighting candles sparsely placed about the room.

In the dim, flickering candlelight, a woman with waved shoulder-length brown hair and hard ebony eyes stared at him, blood red lips curved into a knowing smirk. She twirled a tarot card between two fingers.

“Ah, Young Alchemist. I was expecting you.”  
_______________________________________________________________

The Fool; new beginnings, a fresh start.

He woke up on cold ground. ‘Where am I?’ he wondered. He couldn’t remember anything, no matter how much he tried, except for the image of a vibrant rose garden and a smooth, silky voice.

He stared down at his hands; the hands of a 6 year old. This doesn’t feel right… He looked around at the high stone cliffs forming the walls of the canyon. Where am I? He jumped a little at the sudden sound of footsteps.

When he turned to look, he saw a little, black-haired girl, of the same age as he, staring curiously down at him from atop a cliff. “Who’re you?” She called down.

He thought a bit. Who am I? Finally, he spoke the only thing he knew. “I’m Echizen Ryoma.” The name felt unfamiliar, but right. “Kay then,” the girl smiled at him. “I’m Yurika.”

“Wanna join the Alchemists?”  
_______________________________________________________________

The Lovers; love, romance.

The first time he had seen the other man was a moment of revelation.

He knew it was forbidden, this love he nurtured within him, so he kept it to himself. He knew the chances of his love being returned was slim to none, and attempted to squash it; but he could not put out those flames.

So he merely watched from the shadows, content with that, until one day he had fallen atop the other accidentally and kissed him.

Maybe it was a bad idea, for a relationship could never work out, but that incident sparked up a romance as they realized their feelings for each other.

They knew their love was doomed, but they didn’t care.  
_______________________________________________________________

The Devil; restrictions, confines.

He was wandering the desert, trying to avoid any signs of life. Tenderly he reached to touch his back, feeling the spots where wings once sprouted. This aimless wandering; it frustrated him to no end.

Suddenly a beam of sunlight shone in his eyes, blinding him temporarily. He rubbed them to recover his sight, soon realizing when it cleared that the was no longer in the desert.

Before him was a giant, silver-gilded gate, with a beautiful, lush forest beyond it. Looking behind him, he saw that there was no way to go; the only option was to walk into this prison of his own free will.

Gritting his teeth, he stepped forward, a hand pushing the gates open.  
_______________________________________________________________

Death; transformation, change.

The young man – no, he wasn’t young. He was… Maybe a few millenniums old? He stared in horror at the wings growing out of his back, shining a pure white. But as he watched, black bled into the feathers, making them the color of the night.

Wings… Binding him to his past. The past he so desperately wished to escape. When they had set fire to his first pair, he had felt anger, but now he wasn’t so sure he wanted wings any more.

He spun around to face the seraph that had materialised behind him, eyes shining with his ire. “You,” he hissed, “What did you do to me?”  
_______________________________________________________________

The Wheel of Fortune; fate, life cycles.

“What did you just say?”

The smiling seraph looked down at him from his throne. “You heard me right.” He opened his palm, revealing a hologram made from blue light. “You will have the honor of being my pawn.” The seraph giggled childishly.

Without warning, glittering blue dust was thrown upon the black-winged male, making his form fade from existence. The seraph opened his eyes, propping his elbow up on an arm of the throne and resting his chin on his fist.

A dreamy smile on his lips, the seraph spoke. “Entertain me, will you?”  
_______________________________________________________________

The Tower; sudden change, reconstruction.

The man stared around at the cracked stone, pouring lava and fire, ragged and leathery wings flexing. “I’ll build an empire,” he said to the smoky air. “I’ll build an army against Him.”

He frowned a little, eyebrows creasing, at the memories his thoughts stirred up. He clenched a fist. “I don’t belong to Him anymore, because he threw me away.” He glared up at the soot-blackened ceiling, dripping with stalactites.

In his anger, tears of fury began to fall from his eyes. “Can you hear me, Belial? Can you? I will avenge you!”  
_______________________________________________________________

Golden eyes flickered at the words the fortune-teller had spoken. “I see…” Maybe… Maybe he should leave the brunet, leave this lying game.

Maybe it would be best to stop trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of update… This story will probably be irregularly updated from now on. Hmm… I wonder what the fortune-teller said? XD
> 
> I didn’t like the lemon, because it was so stale… But it’s a first time, plus it’s impromptu and loveless… I really don’t like writing those, but it was necessary. =.=
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read!


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